


Oh, Blossom Hearted Boy

by bluebottle762



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, Ever After Zine, M/M, background Gladnis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 00:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16253141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebottle762/pseuds/bluebottle762
Summary: When Prompto is forced out into a blizzard without much more than the clothes on his back, the last thing he expects is to discover himself in an old house, seemingly just as lost as he is. The house isn't the only thing, however. No, what awaits him here is so much more than gothic atmosphere, and there is no telling where it might lead him.





	Oh, Blossom Hearted Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for the wonderful Promptis Ever After Zine, which you can find out more about (and see some of the other pieces!) here https://twitter.com/everafterzine
> 
> Thank you to everyone who pre-ordered a copy, and thank you to the rest of the team who made this a genuinely good experience to work on <3
> 
> Because of the word count restrictions of working for a zine, this reads as more of an introduction to an AU than a fully realised story, but time and focus permitting, I may well pen the rest of it and update with future chapters!

The cold bit through him like a barb, sharp, metallic, and bone deep. Even the fog of his breath was imperceptible against the blinding whiteness of the blizzard around him. As his foot faltered, bringing him crashing down into the wet and freezing embrace of the snow, Prompto realised dully that this was his end. Unable to continue, he let go, allowing unconsciousness to overtake him.

It came as a surprise then, when he awoke to the warm crackle of a fire, dry and comfortable in a dark and unknown room. Cautiously, he sat up and slid free of the bed, wincing against the dizziness that had been waiting for him a few inches above his resting head. Even in the dark, Prompto could tell the room was grand, populated by dark wood furnishings, and almost as large as the entire ground floor of his childhood home. Across from the high four-poster bed he’d woken up in stood a hearth, the fire in the grate licking low and languorous over the few remaining logs. Above the fireplace hung a large and ornately framed mirror, leaning forward into the room like a threat, and darkened almost to obscurity by a thick patena of grime. 

Catching sight of himself in the angled glass, he pushed his hair out of his eyes, taking in his appearance. Someone had taken the time to re-dress him in loose but comfortable clothing, old but still clean, and much finer than his own. Rubbing his bare palms over the fabric of the sleeves, he shuffled back towards the bed, intent on examining the rest of the room in an attempt to figure out where he was. 

His own clothes, the one’s he’d been walking in, lay neatly over a bench-like trunk at the foot of the bed, left to dry in front of the fire, although they were still damp to the touch. Next to them stood a taxidermied display made to look like the branch of a tree, on which was perched a raven, large and bone white; an illusionary glitter of life still sparkled in its eyes. A trick of the fire, most likely. As Prompto eyed it, however, the thing stretched out its wings with an indignant squawk, flapping them rapidly before taking off. Startled, Prompto jumped back and watched, heart thundering, as the bird performed an elegant lap of the room before coming to rest atop one of the bedposts─ cocking its head to judge him from on high. 

“You startled me there, bud!” Prompto laughed nervously. The raven twisted its head, listening. “How’d you even get in here? You live here?” as if in response, the bird paced sideways across the curtain beam and dipped forward in a nod-like bow. Prompto laughed again, still nervous, but a touch less anxious “Yeah? Can you show me the way out? Don’t think I’m supposed to be here.” 

Prompto managed to locate a pair of worn leather boots by a once plush sofa near the fireplace, soft, and worn in by someone with marginally thinner feet. He pulled them on regardless, and with the raven’s help, found a handful of matches alongside a single white wax candle, already stood upright in a brass holder by the door. 

Pushing open the heavy door, stained dark by age and varnish, Prompto peeked out into the corridor beyond, the Raven skipping out past him over his boots, its wings half extended as it cawed impatiently at him. Prompto found himself to be in an almost palatial house, although its splendour now lay overgrown and liminal, as if lying dormant under the dust. As he followed his chalky guide through the house, Prompto noted that whilst the place had many windows, not one was unboarded, as if all natural light had been forbidden from the place. 

The raven lead him through shrouded portrait lined hallways, down a sweeping flight of stairs and across a grand hall, one side of which was almost entirely comprised of tall paneled windows, their inky black glass providing imaginary views of the void, punctuated by Prompto’s own reflection, born of candle light. At long last, the raven came to rest on an elevated perch outside a door which stood ajar, firelight spilling out through the gap to pool at Prompto’s unsure feet.

“Hey, this doesn’t look like a way out, buddy. Where’ve you taken me?” Prompto whispered up at the bird imploringly, but it gave no response. Before Prompto could ask the bird a second time, however, a low voice spoke from inside the room.

“Ignis? Is that you?” 

The raven squawked above him, answering to the name, wobbling on its perch with renewed activity. His heart in his throat, Prompto jumped as another Raven, inky black and larger than the first, flew past him, clipping him in the back of the head with its wing. The sliver of firelight at his feet was all at once extinguished, and on reflex he turned towards the door.

Blue eyes, dulled and grey without a light source to liven them, stared at him from within a dark silhouette, distorted and misshapen, although very nearly on height with Prompto. The eyes blinked at him, and Prompto took an instinctive step back before realising they were human. The man in the doorway shifted to the side, as if transferring his weight from one foot to the other in an agitated manner. 

“I asked you to tell me when he woke up, _not bring him here._ ” Although he was still staring at Prompto, his eyes moving over his borrowed clothes and still drying hair, his tone was soft, and most definitely meant for the bird, who in turn squawked its indignance back at him. The stranger withdrew back into the room to partially hide himself behind the door frame, still peeking out in trepidation. 

He was wearing some kind of cloak, a heavy mess of ill-kempt feathers that heaped around his shoulders, engulfing him and trailing on the floor behind him in a tattered mess. His hair too was like a bird’s nest, dark and sticking up at odd angles, his bangs long and obscuring a good deal of his face. What little Prompto could make out was pale and soft, maybe a touch baby-ish. Dark splotches dotted his cheekbones in a dense pattern that swept back under his tousled bangs, and briefly Prompto wondered what they were. 

“Why aren’t you scared?” The question had a hard edge to it, a wariness that made Prompto nervous. 

“I-” But whatever he’d been about to say was lost as the stranger placed a black taloned hand on the door frame. 

The skin, exposed to the elbow, was rough, void-black and scaly looking. His talons (or perhaps claws ─ Prompto couldn’t remember the difference), gripped at the frame, too exact in their movements to be some kind of glove. His eyes traveled along his arm, back to the mass of rumpled feathers he had first taken to be a cloak. The stranger, this creature, whatever he─ _it_ was, was wrong, however. Prompto was definitely afraid. 

“What _are_ you?” His voice sounded steadier than he felt, and as if to live up to the standard it had set, he took a tentative step forward. Behind him, the black raven cawed unnaturally, a repetitive noise almost like a laugh. 

The creature’s expression darkened, and the taloned hand withdrew back into the mass of feathers. It took a step back, reaching for the door to push it closed as the Ravens on their perch started up a cacophony of outrage. 

Prompto felt dizzy, full of panic and confusion, mixed quickly into a lurid cocktail, the sloshed contents of which made his blood quicken and his thoughts flash like lightning. Someone had rescued him from the snow. Found him and brought him back here, warmed him, put him in a bed and laid out dry clothes. The realisation settled on him like a veil of cobwebs, delicately unpleasant.

“No, wait!” His own hand dashed out to catch the door before it closed, only inches away from where the avian thumb curved around the aged wood. “You’re the one who brought me in, right? From the blizzard?” He bit his lip, stepping closer and tilting his head to peer around the door. Blue eyes looked back at him, cautious, but not angry. They blinked. 

“You would have died.” Prompto watched as the creature’s lips moved, paid attention as his teeth scraped against his lower lip on the ‘v’ sound, to how they were normal, and flat, and human. He caught his gaze briefly, and the creature looked away, seemingly uncomfortable. 

“I thought maybe I _had_ died.” Prompto offered up a weak smile, intended to be reassuring. He wondered why he was the one trying to reassure in this situation, and not the other way around. “So, uh... Thanks. Thank you. Kinda… Saved my life there.” 

The creature shifted its weight again, and now that he was so close, the rustling of feathers was distinct but soft, like beads in a rainmaker. Words did not seem to be forthcoming, however.

“My name’s Prompto.” Things were feeling tense again, and Prompto wondered if he hadn’t just made a very big mistake. “Prompto Argentum.” He offered, weakly.

“Noctis.” He replied, low and uncertain, maybe even _shy_. “My name is Noctis. I had Ignis wait for you.” The avian hand extended out from the shadows to point upward at the white raven, now silently preoccupied in grooming it’s larger, black companion. “Ignore anything Gladio says to you.”

Before Prompto could ask what he meant by this rather cryptic remark, Noctis turned and retreated back towards the fire light. Cautiously, Prompto followed him.

Noctis was even more alarming to look at in the light. At first, Prompto thought he stood hunched forward, his back and knees bent to make him appear smaller, but as Noctis moved he realised this was wrong. He stood with his shoulders pushed back, his arms ever so slightly extended at his sides, no doubt to better accommodate the large and dragging _wings_ that burst from his back,cumbersome and inelegant. His lower legs and feet, much like his forearms, were bare and bird like, some uncomfortable halfway house between avian and human; his glossy black talons having to grip the floor to help keep him upright when not in motion. The flickering light of the fire caught his feathers in a dance of prismatic patterns like an oil slick. 

Oddly enough, the detail that caught Prompto off guard the most was the inclusion of black pants that ended in neat cuffs at the knee. It was the human qualities that bothered him most, not the monstrous ones, which were outlandish enough to be beautiful in isolation.

“You live here, then? On your own?” The question felt foolish, but then he wasn’t sure what else to ask. Noctis nodded, staring off into the fire with an odd expression that Prompto couldn’t quite decipher. “And what do you eat?” He’d said it before he could think, the words tumbling out of his mouth and away. Noctis frowned, pulled from whatever deep thought he’d been probing to consider the question.

“Yes. No. Sort of. It wasn’t always like this, there used to be people. And uh, food I guess? Cake? Why, are you hungry?” The last half of his response sounded so utterly bewildered that Prompto couldn’t help but smile. He still felt disjointed, like he’d missed a step on a flight of stairs to fall, not only through air, but reality, before landing on the next step with a jolt. Right now, if he focused in on this conversation alone and nothing else, he could just about keep his balance to maintain some mockery of normality.

In Noctis’ bedroom some two floors above, a single sylleblossom, encased in crystal, shed yet another unearthly petal, whilst outside the crumbling castle, the blizzard raged on.


End file.
